


When The Cards All Fold

by Neelh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, i don't think this is fluff though, tbh my brain is terrifying sometimes, this rubs me the wrong way but it's also me venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:01:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neelh/pseuds/Neelh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras isn't as perfect as people are led to believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Cards All Fold

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the tags, this is mostly me venting things I have felt onto Enjolras.
> 
> Because that seems to be what I do in this fandom.

Enjolras strode up the stairs of the car park.

 

It was nearly time for it to close, so there wouldn't be too many people still parked. All the better for his needs.

 

With every step he took, another one of his problems flickered across his mind.

 

_Combeferre is disappointed in you. You couldn't be with him when he needed you to be. He always makes time for you. Pathetic._

 

_Courfeyrac only pretends to like you. He can like anyone except for you. You drove away so many of his boyfriends and girlfriends. He's bound to tell you how awful you are soon._

 

_Feuilly thinks you're a privileged rich kid. Which you are. You don't understand the people you vowed to stand up for._

 

_You made Jehan cry, you disgusting bastard. You shout at people for making him sad then you wreck him completely._

 

_You fucked the person you love and left him the morning after._

 

_What kind of asshole does that?_

 

_Oh, that's right._

 

_You do._

 

_Overprivileged moron, you're the very thing you hate. You like to stick your head up your ass and pretend you're perfect._

 

_You're even worse than a cynical drunk._

 

"No, he's perfect in every way," muttered Enjolras, watching as his feet took him up each step, one by one. "He actually cares about his friends. He goes and lives instead of wasting his life on useless bullshit that no one actually gives a crap about."

 

He reached the top of the building and opened the door to the roof.

 

It was nighttime, and everyone who had parked on this floor had already left. The wind whipped his blonde hair around his face. He brushed it behind his ears and over his shoulder so it cascaded down his back.

 

_What a queer bitch. Playing up to faggot stereotypes._

 

Enjolras would have once argued that he was expressing his sexuality how he wanted to, but now he could only silently agree with the voice in his own head.

 

Suddenly, his right pocket vibrated. Enjolras's eyes widened as Letterbomb started playing and he picked up the phone without thinking.

 

Caller ID claimed that he was being phoned by Combeferre. Enjolras never could avoid him, and he put speakerphone on before making his way to the wall on the edge of the roof and placing it on one of the red bricks.

 

"Enjolras? Enjolras, talk to me."

 

His friend sounded panicked.

 

"Hi, Combeferre," replied the blonde, attempting in vain to sound casual.

 

"Oh my God, Enjolras, where are you?"

 

He sat on the wall, next to his phone. "I'm in the car park. On the roof."

 

"Is there anyone else with you?"

 

Enjolras chuckled dryly. "I should hope not."

 

"Shit." Combeferre sounded grave, and for a moment Enjolras began to question his decision. But only for a moment. "Please don't tell me you're going to do what I think you are."

 

"That depends," he shot back. "What _do_ you think I'm going to do, 'Ferre?"

 

"No. No no no no no," replied his friend, sounding harried. "Grantaire's on his way, wait for him, _please_!"

 

"Please not Grantaire," whispered Enjolras.

 

"Yes, Grantaire!" Combeferre almost shouted. "Please listen to him, he understands what you're feeling."

 

"No he doesn't."

 

_Petulant child. I believe this is what is known as being a "rebel without a cause." But oh no, you made your causes. You made your friends into things for you to fix. Eponine punched you for it once. You remember, surely?_

 

"I'm sorry, 'Ferre."

 

"No, Enjolras, please don't! Don't hang up, Enjolras! Keep talking to me, dammit! Don't leave us all!"

 

He hung up.

 

He closed his dark blue eyes; the colour of the night in the city, when streetlights made nothing truly pitch black, but still couldn't make the night into day.

 

It wan't long until his phone began buzzing again. This time, however, the introduction to Famous Last Words was playing.

 

Enjolras didn't need Caller ID this time. The only person who didn't have the default ringtone that Enjolras had set for all of his friends was Grantaire, and that was just because the man had stolen his phone for seven minute and the next thing he knew was that he had a My Chemical Romance album and Grantaire had a new ringtone.

 

Did he really have to live though Hell before sending himself there for good?

 

He picked up the phone.

 

"Dammit Enjolras you'd better not have already jumped because I'll fucking follow you. I'll follow you anywhere you fucking idealistic fool."

 

"Grantaire?"

 

"Shit, Enj, you picked up. Thank all the fucking gods I don't actually believe in."

 

Enjolras shook his head, adjusting himself so he could sit facing his phone, addressing it as though it was an actual person. "Of course I did. You're you."

 

"I'm me? A cynical asshole of a cockslut. I suppose I am."

 

"No." Enjolras shook his head. "You're perfect and smart and so much better than me. You can actually care about our… Your friends."

 

"They're your friends as much as they are mine," Grantaire replied. He recognised the acoustics of where the man was from the tinny phone speakers. He was running up the stairs. Shit. Enjolras had to do this quickly.

 

"You know that they hate me as much as you do," murmured the blonde-haired boy. "You know that they hate me as much as _I_ do."

 

"Don't hate yourself," Grantaire almost shouted back. "Fuck, that's ridiculous. You can't stop hating yourself, but please, let me love you enough for both of us."

 

"No, R," said Enjolras. His voice had managed to be both completely void of emotion and desperately sad at the same time. "Please hate me. Don't lie to me."

 

A pause.

 

"I don't want to die, Grantaire."

 

"Then don't. Please."

 

"I have to." Enjolras began to sob. "My life has been a question of not if I kill myself, but when. It's been like that for so long. I don't remember a time when it wasn't. It's like one of the irrefutable facts of my life, like I'm gay, and I will always look like a girl, and I love you."

 

He heard a sharp intake of breath.

 

"Say that again. Please."

 

"I-I love you?"

 

They were both sobbing. Grantaire, still running up the stairs, replied in a voice that Enjolras could hardly hear as he lost signal.

 

"I love you too, Enjolras. And that's the only thing in my life that I am certain of. I love you. I fucking adore you."

 

"Please, Grantaire, don't do this to me," bawled Enjolras. "I need to die, I have to."

 

Then Grantaire was on the roof, hugging him, pulling him down and off of the wall. Enjolras struggled against his tight grip, howling as he did so.

 

"Let me go! Please! I _need_ to die! _I can't let you love me_!"

 

"You never _let_ me love you!" roared Grantaire in return. "I've loved you for so long, the idea of you giving permission for me to love you is fucking ridiculous. Enjolras. _Enjolras_!"

 

The blonde had wrenched himself out of Grantaire's arms with a surprising amount of strength and began to sprint for the wall. He barely caught him; the hood of Enjolras's red jacket being enough to stall him for a moment, before turning him around and holding him tightly.

 

"Enj, Enjolras, fuck, if you died I would have to follow you. Ugh, this is literally the worst thing I could do in this situation, but I need to tell you. I'm incapable of living without you. Not unwilling, but honestly, physically, mentally unable. I tried to leave Les Amis for a while to get away from you, but I love you far, far too much."

 

Then Grantaire kissed him. They sank to their knees together, kissing again and again, chastely and carefully, as though the moment was made of glass and they were far, far too powerful. Though Enjolras was taller, most of his height was in his legs, so Grantaire was tall enough for him to bury his face in the stubbly neck.

 

"We can get you therapy, we'll all help you. You're not a burden," he quickly added, seeing Enjolras's expression. "We all genuinely care for you, and we know you care for us."

 

_Liar._

 

"Grantaire, keep talking to me, please," whispered Enjolras, his throat wrecked.

 

The black-haired man murmured sweet words of encouragement into the curls he was burying his face into.

 

"Let's stay together forever," he whispered. "Just let me pick up your phone now."

 

He grabbed it and hung up. That call had lasted for forty minutes. The blonde tried to chuckle weakly.

 

"I'll carry you, Enj. I'll carry you home and I'll stay with you. You won't have to be alone."

 

Enjolras nodded, smiling distantly.

 

"I love you, Grantaire."

**Author's Note:**

> I wouldn't mind concrit, if you have some.
> 
> Also please correct any typos I may have made because otherwise I will be really really mortified.


End file.
